


The Redemption Principle

by Oreofignewtonsblazko



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Van Helsing (2004)
Genre: 1880s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angels, Ass-Kicking, Dark, Demons, England - Freeform, F/M, Family, Fighting, Ghosts, Haunted Island, Holy Water, Italy, London, Love, Love Triangle...?, Poltergeists, Poveglia, Quite Gruesome, Rome - Freeform, Vatican, Venice, serial killings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreofignewtonsblazko/pseuds/Oreofignewtonsblazko
Summary: The reader is on a mission in 1888 London to find a "man" who calls himself the Jabberwocky. At the time of your investigations, Jack the Ripper begins his moves against Jacob and the assassins. On one particular evening in late fall, you meet Jack the Ripper and inflict wounds upon him, managing to save yourself and Jacob Frye at the scene. From there, you both end up going to your hiding place;You then find out the Holy Order that you work for, has informed your Mentor Gabriel Van Helsing that you are related to the Italian Brotherhood, and has given you permission to work with the Brotherhood where you're stationed. The problem however, arises as you help Jacob fight against Jack. It so happens that when you team up with the best Master Assassin of London, that enemy forces join together as well.Will you have enough strength and resolve to face through the brutal murders, or will you abandon the hope you gave Jacob as you flee for safety from the reaches of the two most evil men?





	1. Prologue: Meet the Ripper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You save Jacob Frye from being taken by Jack the Ripper that one fateful night...

The letters were printed everywhere in the newspapers; all the headlines about the latest murder, and it seemed like two deranged men were competing to see which murder story could get out first and increase their deadly fame. To any normal person, it would honestly cause them to wonder about their health and wellbeing, and wonder why the asylums let them out in the first place. 

 

 

Though, in some instances, you knew from firsthand experience they could be pulled out at a young age for someone who was willing to adopt them.  That being said, you brought your attention from the black and white print. Your eyes traveled along the dreary road in London, the sun hiding behind a beautiful purple blue hue of clouds and rain dripped to the ground. You had been waiting outside the pup with a black bandana tied up and over your nose and mouth. It was patterned in the same fashion as that of your Mentor; a half sun glittering over your nose tip and waves and patterns flowing out to the edges. Your hair was pulled back in a fistail braid, going along the edges and finally meeting at the middle of your cranium until being braided together downwards. The newpaper was getting wet by occasional stray drops of rainwater, as you were perched beside the entrance to a pub and soon passing the oddly wicked paper to someone inside. In turn, they started reading about the latest terrors that was going on in Whitechapel. 

Your mentor was a straight laced man; serious, yet he was so caring and gentle. There was a sense about him that brought you peace, and when you first met him you had been in awe of him gracing you with his presence. Giving a smile under your mask, you took careful steps away from your perch before making a quick way down the streets. They say its dangerous to be in Whitechapel during the night, but they fail to mention whats been happening during those times. Innocent whores were being plucked off like hens in a slaughterhouse; the exact opposite could be said for respectable men and women. Of course, they weren't mutilated to bits, but rather their faces were sunken into their skulls like they were just a flesh stretched overtop and skin blackened. It was one of the most peculiar cases you've ever been allowed on.

An annoyed huff escaped your lips, continuing on your travel as you made your way towards the hotel that had been set up as your stay for the time your mission was going on. Your boots clacked against the cobblestone sidewalk and your warm leather riding coat swished while numerous lapels gently clinked together by the metallic buckles hanging from them. The noises nearly kept your senses from being alert, as you occasionally paused to fix your buckles and straps before continuing on. You only came to a stop when your ears pricked and you felt a strong sense of someone watching you. Coming to a halt, you eyed the hotel wearily before walking slowly past it. There was public eye on the streets now, a small party flitting about in a courtyard nearby, a large brick wall surrounding the area and a spiked metallic fence lining the top. 

You lingered at the arched entryway, eyes turning back over your shoulder and took a quick sweep over your shoulder before turning your eyes upwards to the rooftops. Nothing showed except for the weeping of the clouds before you turned and made your slow strides towards the party. You heard that your mentor would join you later on after he was finished with his work in Transylvania. Which, by the looks of it, he won't be arriving until winter, or even after winter of 1888. Which wasn't exactly good, as you couldn't face this monster you were hunting on your own. Jack the Ripper was out at work as well...

Coming to a stop, you felt the air shift and you slowly prowled forward. Really, your target could be anywhere, and anything at this point. You had heard the man had the ability to possess and maintain different forms, only succeeding by taking the lives of another. So, your eyes were pricked for any weird voodoo crap. Which was easy- or at least you thought. Your mentor had warned you that they come  in different shapes and sizes, and that evil had different ways to collect what it wanted if it chose to. That information gave you the chills each time you thought about it, and you could hear his deep voice rumble in the back of your head each time you repeated it like a broken loop. 

A scream broke into the air, body twisting around and catching a pillow cased man brutally stab the policeman. Your eyes widened, fear momentarily taking to your body as you saw him pull out his knife from the gut wound and growl out. The people started to scatter, one man emerging as he held up gloved palms and his hazel eyes nearly a deep forest brown. Seeing this murderer advance for the man, you reached behind your tail coats and slipped to what was in its holsters. Lifting out a pistol, you held it out while twisting your side slightly and let your finger squeeze the trigger, causing the attacker to stumble with the force and weight behind the silver bullet. This caused the two men to look at you, your other hand pulling out a long blade. The handle was wrapped in leather and the long blade curved out and hooked at the end; a modified stiletto knife really. You quickly tucked your gun away, tossing the blade into your right hand before fluttering your eyelids. It was quick, though everything felt it was going into slow motion. Everything flashed into a different color, bodies outlined with white and hearts turned into a feather shape. In front of you, the murderer had a deep black feather that was broken and bent, several boned and webbed feathers protruding up and around the main one. He wasn't your target, most definitely, but he was a threat that was hell-bent  on trying to make someone atone for something within his past. Your eyelids fluttered once again, body sliding to the right and narrowly avoiding the thrusting of the knife. His eyes shot to the edges of his own eyeholes within his makeshift mask, breathing labored and you could sense the growing anger from the man's soul.

It was hard to explain- which we can go into detail later on- but it was a gift much like your mentor had... But on a whole different scale. It was more out of sight than a 6th sense.

"Jack the Ripper," you greeted when you had the chance, wrist flicking and blade making a quick swipe across the man's forearm. It sliced through his heavy jacket and clothing beneath, cutting the stitched working of his skin and red liquid pouring out and dripping onto the ground. His other hand reached to grab you, your hand twirling the blade around and slicing his palm as it advanced for your neck. He gave a cry of pain, voice distorted and sending a shudder down your back before you rushed from his reach. The man you had saved was staring in awe, soon being woken up when you advanced for his figure. "Get moving!" you shouted, grabbing onto his elbow and stumbling up the steps with him. You swerved, making a beeline around a corner and rushed down the alley way with the man racing beside you. You had let your hand falter in its hold on his joint and gripped his gloved hands, your own gripping his tightly as you advanced into the public street. The electric lamps were alit with pride that late night, and the rain begun to cease as you continued your  race down the street. Coming to a stop below a light, you turned to look to see if he was pursuing you. Eyelids fluttering once again, you made a general sweep of the area before looking at the man you saved and let your gaze settle on his sternum. You noticed a white pristine feather, standing tall and pride, however it looked like it had been bent and worn, the soft strands coming from the stem faltering and withering and a small but conjoined feather pricked from the base of its quill. Several other feathers lined around it, though most black and crumpled to the bottom of his soul while very few remained. Blinking, the sight went away and you were simply staring at his stripped suit jacket.

You didn't recognize his soul. Granted, you hadn't met him before nor heard his name... But you've never seen a man so broken before. Looking up, his hazel hues were boring into you, a look of worry forming over his face as he tiredly gripped your biceps. "What were you thinking? You could've been killed over me- a stranger!" he rasped before he slowly alit with hope. "You're an assassin aren't you? The Council sent more?"

For a moment, your heart wrenched at the hope that glittered over his terribly tired looking features. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm not what you have asked for. I was doing my job, protecting the innocent from the evil," you breathed out softly, voice somewhat muffled by your mask. Raising your hand up, you gently plucked the mask and revealed the last bit of your face to the man. In a way, he looked like a somewhat older version of your mentor, and a sad sense of nostalgia overwhelmed your being. 

He broke down at your words, the man collapsing into your arms as he sobbed helplessly into your figure. As much as you didn't know him, you felt like consoling him and you simply gripped his leather trench coat by balling it into your hands when you fisted his jacket. He seemed like a hard stoned man, and when you told him that it wasn't the hope he had been feeling, you realized that it completely broke him. Giving a frown at his slicked back locks, you simply raised a gloved hand and gently smoothed his hair down (as though it even needed it).

"Lets get you inside somewhere safe... If Jack was hunting you down then that means he'll be anticipating your next move..." you breathed out, forcing your ability to come back. You made several sweeps of the area before you gently coaxed the stranger to walk with you back to the hotel. It was a somewhat long walk, your powers giving way as you focused on the lobby inside before you led the man to your room.

"Miss ____! Miss _____!" A courier exclaimed when he saw you, rushing over with a letter in hand and waving it at you. You paused in your movements, gently gripping the man's shoulders to keep him close while you reached out with your free hand. "Its from Van Helsing," he informed, soon rushing away with a soft good night and scurried on away.

Giving a frown at the neatly drawled script of your name, you looked at the paper before gripping it tighter in your hand. "He'll have to wait," you mumbled to yourself, soon guiding your guest up to your quarters on the second floor. It wasn't much, but it was at least something, and it overlooked the streets. Gently guiding him to a chair, you set the letter down on the table and closed and locked your door once everything was inside. You also made sure to move to every window and drape several heavy fabrics in front of it, knowing that Jack may still be on the hunt now that his prey had been rescued. Turning round, you made sure to set your trench coat to the side and shifted your belt on your waist before making way to the letter. "What's your name sir?" You asked your guest, sitting down on the chair opposite of him.

"Jacob Frye," he breathed, as if he were uttering a curse and dared to avoid your eye.

"Nice to meet you Jacob Frye, I'm _____  _______," you introduced yourself, giving a kind but weak smile before setting the note on the table. "You mentioned Assassins and a council. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are they?"

You watched as he raised his head, soon shaking it and swallowing something that was caught in his throat. He raised a hand, shaking his head. "Forget I even mentioned it," he ordered, turning his head away and eyeing your belongings.

Silence settled between you two. You didn't say anything for the longest time, and watched as he inspected his surroundings. Seeing as he remained alright, you turned your attention to your letter and carefully opened it up with a silver letter opener. The handle top was in the shape of a Catholic Cross, reminding you of the duties that you held to the Vatican.

Once you reached the small paper within the envelope, you pulled it out and took in a soft breath.

 

_Dear ______,_

_I apologize for my lateness. As I travel and search for clues about Dracula, I hear the stories of the turnabouts in London. The Holy Order has requested that I send you letter with your oncoming orders._

_As you may wish to recall, the Holy Order has claimed that they work with an organization that does not wish to be named. They only brought it up to you and me because it has been recently made known that we have indirect involvements with them._

 

You took a soft inhale and glanced up at Jacob, his hazel hues wandering over your jacket before inspecting you. Turning your eyes down at the words, you forced yourself to focus.

 

_They were a band that's known as the Assassins; or at least, the Italian Brotherhood. They were formed back in the earliest records of the 16th century, and even really rather late in the 15th century. The man who formed the brotherhood was named Ezio Auditore Da Firenze. From what they've gathered, he's apparently one of your ancestors as well._

_I advise that you do not disclose this information to anyone. I've written most of what I'm currently allowed to tell you. Should you run into anyone from the British Brotherhood, you are permitted to speak with them and approach them about your work. The Holy Order works with the Italian Brotherhood, even today._

_But that's not entirely why I have written to you. _____, there is a murderer- one who hunts down the women and lures them into hidden streets and alleys and slaughters them until they're raw pieces of flesh. I advise you to not go your usual hours of investigating at night, as its dangerous should you come across him. I do not want the report of you dead by his hand come back to me. I would surely regret not letting you come with me to Translyvania..._

_Carl says hello by the way. He also says he has some new gadgets for you to test out once we arrive at London._

_I hope to see you soon __ ____.

 

_Safety and peace,_

_Gabriel Van Helsing_

 

You turned your eyes up from his words and looked at Jacob with sudden interest. Reaching forward, you gently grabbed his hand that was lying on the wooden table top. The kitchen area was tiny, connected to the living room and a plush bed in the far corner. His eyes lifted from the joined hands before looking up at you, a brow furrowing slightly. 

"I may be of some help Mr. Frye," you began, giving a warm smile then. "I work with the Holy Order," you began.

His eyes grew wide as saucers, his body straightening and turning towards you. "The Holy Order? What brings you here if you're not after Jack the Ripper?"

You blinked, slightly taken back by his sudden interest before gently squeezing his larger palm. "I am here to find my own target that calls himself the Jabberwocky. Blasted fool- naming himself after a dragon," you mumbled the last bit to yourself before looking up at him. "Anyways, I've just received a letter from my mentor. He's currently stationed in Translyvania, working on a case that has Dracula in it."

"I guess some fairytales are real now aren't they?" He mused quietly.

"Some you don't want to exist," you agreed with a new smile. It reached your eyes, sending a new flame of hope into the older man as he seemed to slowly smile with you. "My mentor mentions that the Holy Order works with the Italian Brotherhood, and gets along fairly well. He also permits that I may be able to be of service to you as well. It could strengthen our ties, as the Holy Order keeps the Brotherhood fairly hushed," you explain, slowly releasing his hand.

He listened, growing serious before he nodded. "Very well," he took in a soft inhale. His hand lifted, rubbing his stubbled chin. "Then would you mind helping me hunt down Jack? In the process we can find leads to your Jabberwocky," he suggested.

Thinking, you find yourself grinning like a child on Christmas morning. "Mr. Frye, I would be delighted. If it means helping the Brotherhood, and helping my mission, then I'm all for it," you clasped your hands together then.

"Then its settled," your guest smiled, and then you saw how genuine he was. Really, it removed the tired and aged look of his face to a younger expression, looking as if he dropped a few years. And that, was when you remarked that his smiling self suited him perfectly. 

"We can begin in the morning after breakfast," you informed, pushing yourself up and out of your seat. "I advise you rest," you hummed out, guiding him to your bed and gestured him to relax. 

"_____," he began objecting, you raising a gloved hand and hushing him.

"You are my guest Mr. Frye. You've been through a lot and the rest is absolutely dire. I won't let you wander back home and out of my sight. I have no desire to watch you be restless through the night. This sleep is dire," you explained, tone turning serious and gaze becoming stern.

Slowly, the assassin merely complied and relaxed onto your bed, having stripped himself of his jacket and boots before sliding under the covers. You had taken a perch up on the couch, turning to grab a quill and your journal that was lying on the nightstand. Leaning against the arm of the comfortable couch, you opened up to a blank page and dipped the tip in blank ink. It was then you focused on writing down what happened that day and the soft scratching noise filled the air.

Jacob meanwhile, took a bit of time getting used to his surroundings. The smell that lingered around you was that of spices and rarities that came from Italy, and his interest merely peaked when he saw you gazing out into some form of space on occasion before you continued your soft writing. Your presence absolutely calmed him, and for the first time since Evie left for India- he felt _safe_ again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had accidently already posted this, because i hit the wrong button when i was editting the tags and i got so pissed at myself. Like this is finally it i was so ready to just burn this whole idea up into flames
> 
>  
> 
> I had an idea where the story originally took place in the 1868 London, but i realized there was no absolute way to continue with that story. So when i changed it to this with the older Jacob as a love interest in mind, i realized that it fit together so much better and it would work perfectly
> 
> Plus Im totally in for the 40 year old Jacob that looks like Hugh Jackman. The best part is that he kinda sounds like him too. Need i say, this calls for a character that is played by Hugh to melt everyone's brains haha
> 
>  
> 
> Also, if you've read my other two Assassin's Creed Stories, welcome back! Im glad you've opted to read this [shitty] idea of mine thats been floating around my head for awhile. 
> 
> If you're new, well hello! If you're interested, you can go ahead and snoop on my profile and check at the active stories that i have goin. They're in their own series (BTS AU & ASSASSINS MEET READER), and they're waiting to be read by you lovelies! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this Prologue~ do come back and read more should this update!!
> 
> With love,  
> Fignewtons


	2. Old Nightmares

The scene for which a typical bad guy would open up in a rich building, or with a head person of power would stand with multitudes of guards about him in dim lighting and behind a desk, while his partner stood on the other side and demanded whatever it was that was needed to be demanded. However, it wasn't the case here. They individually stood from the other- standing across and staring before either one spoke. It seemed both were sizing the other up, and weighing the options on if they should kill their competition or team up. Quite really, it wasn't in anyone's selfish desires to join up with someone or to have a team but... When your enemies join up, apparently, so do you. Besides, having two hunt one down isn't that great of odds and therefore, teaming up with the other enemy would mean double the work for them. Well- at least in theory. For anyone to believe otherwise and to be so stubborn as to continue on without an inkling of knowing (that the person you could have joined with and ultimately turned down) that you could have survived without being killed if you joined them.

Which is probably why Jack the Ripper and the Jabberwocky were meeting as of the moment.

It seemed as though Jabberwocky was contemplating his actions, staring down the serial killer before looking down at the gloved hand extended. Slowly, an equally gloved hand reached out, his long jacket following his wrist and clasping onto the young man's hand. Jack eyed the man's cognac hues, who equally flitted over him. He was dressed eloquently, and the scent of cologne emitted from his frame a bit too strongly, and his own top hat was perched neatly on slicked back hair. It was a deep black in color, and he wore a black suit with an equally dark riding coat.

"By shaking hands with me, you do realize you are handing your very life to me?" Jabberwocky hummed out in question, eyes half lidded and teeth revealed. To the man before him, he had dazzling pearly whites- and they were so unnaturally perfect.

Jack sighed, his brown eyes rolling as he gripped his hand tighter. "They all say that Jabberwocky. Your threats do not concern me. All I did was promise you the girl," he hissed out.

Jabberwocky frowned deeply then, something stirring in his being and ready to devour Jack then and there- but he resisted his desires. "And I will get what I want and more, Jack," he sneered in reply.

For a moment, Jack thought he saw something else in that figure Jabberwocky.  He wasn't too sure, but he caught a wind of rotting flesh and... He swore he saw something else crawling over the man. Though, simply pushing the silly idea away, he sighed out and simply shook his head. "Its settled then?" he inquired, a bit bitterly.

"Its settled," Jabberwocky hummed in reply, his unusual eyes glinting.

Now the hunt for the girl begins.

 

 

Your eyes traveled over the yellowing paper, fingers delicately sliding over the scratched in letters as you softly inhaled. The scent around you was that of must and gunpowder, an inkling of wood that lingered with spices from somewhere farther than Italy. You would have to ask Jacob about the spices a bit later; the reports before you had fully captured your attention. You were reading up on the reports of Spring Heeled Jack, and the personal written notes of Jacob and Evie Frye. Each beautifully written letter was passed over by your fingertip, and your head inclined towards the papers and the artist drawing. Jacob's note had caught your attention, reading the last bit that has mentioned in whence- " _ **Jack preformed a Leap of Faith, something that only skilled assassins could preform**_." Looking at the reports of Jack the Ripper then, you let your fingers trail over how the body was found and the mysterious figure that hid in the shadows. Most importantly, Jacob hadnt told you that Jack was an assassin.

The lights flickered from the walls, your head lifting and soon body rising as well. You had collected your reports, placing them in your bag that was slung over one shoulder before you made your way to the window that overlooked the street to the right side of the home. Jacob was writing a note to his sister, the sound of scratching quills filling the air. Your eyes searched the area, fast approaching hooves clopping over the stone and the horses' broad ribcage heaved. Fredrick Abberline leapt from the carriage when it slowed enough, and he rushed into the building and stomped up the steps. You could hear his frantic breathing, your body moving to the door with Jacob instantly behind you, weapon drawn.

"Its Mr. Abberline," you informed softly, calming Jacob's frazzled nerves before he put his weapon away and simply joined you outside of the flat.

The man was panting at the top of the steps, darkness settling in on the shortening day and you watched as he gripped his thighs for support.

"It-it-its a photo for you both to s-s-see," he rasped between gasping breaths, body straightening up and mouth opening up like a fish gaping for air.

Your brows furrowed, watching as he opened his mouth to speak when you reached forward and gently gripped his shoulder. "Take in a breath, hold it for a couple seconds and then exhale. Speak only when you're ready," you instructed, voice low and quiet.

After a few more rasping seconds, Abberline held out a photo to you of a small child, only eight or so, and swallowed thickly. "The photo was developed only recently as it was sent to us. The girl was missing for several days and this letter-"

You snatched the photo and inspected it closely.

"Was  addressed to us... But look on the back," he panted, soon collecting his breaths and thoughts.

Jacob watched you, your hand trembling slightly as you dared to turn the photo over in your hands.

 

Written in neat handwriting was a large L, with a small pentagram curved off of the tail. Below that was a line that consisted with,

**_Did you enjoy your stay in Poveglia?_ **

 

 

 _The Vatican was grand- a city located within a city and high arching walls surrounding the holy place. Quite really, it was its own country. Filled with monks and nuns and people dedicating their lives to that of the Catholic Church. Standing in a garden within the inner most walls was a large white statute with palms facing outwards and a beaked hood pulled low over his face and a seemingly long shoulder cape pushed back behind his left arm._ _The name wasn't found at the base of this object, but rather an odd symbol with intricate lace detailing around it as a representation of the Italian heritage. It has a certain allure to it- your eyes searching the masterpiece and expecting a handsome figure to emerge and greet you. However, it failed your expectations and you turned your eyes back from the marble and to the man you were accompanied with. His wide brimmed hat was removed, and his neatly brown hair waved out to the tops of his shoulders where a leather riding jacket hung down past his knees. He was talking with the Pope, their hushed voices falling into the wind and being carried away from your curious ears._ _Your hands gently removed themselves from the stone that had grown warm below your soft fingerpads and slowly trailed over to the two men. Your shoes scraped over the cobblestone, and your tattered gown did little justice to keep the cool breeze from nipping your skin. You felt your fingers raise and gently cradle your arms, trying the block the cold before coming to a stop beside the man who stood over the Pope._

_A quiet sigh escaped his frame, stubble chin gently tilting to your direction and lazy brown eyes sweeping your way. "________.... This is the Father- the Pope of the Vatican," the man rumbled out, seeming to introduce the important figure._

_You gently gripped your thin skirt and made a curtsy the best you could. "How do you do?" You responded kindly_

_"My child- there is no need for such formalities," the man kindly told you, aging hands gently guiding your shoulders up to let you stand tall. He looked over your dress, your cheeks turning red and looking down at your bare feet. "Gabriel, would you like to hand your jacket over for her to borrow? It will be awhile for her clothes to come in- just until this afternoon."_

_Gabriel hesitantly complied, stripping himself of his riding jacket and gently folding it over your figure and it seemingly swallowed you whole- your head peeking out as you clutched the heavy fabric tight. Beneath his jacket was a turtleneck sweater, and black pants held up with a belt and several pouches for his numerous weapons._

_"How long will I stay here?" You asked them, eyes turning between both faces._

_"My child, you are not going to be a Nun if that is what you are worried about-"_

_You blushed._

_"But rather, you are joining the Holy Order." The Pope laced his fingers together and let his sleeves fall down and cover his joined hands, continuing on in a serious tone, "We have heard of your abilities to detect the good and evil, and I am hoping Gabriel can teach you to rid of the evil from the world."_

_"And what am I to gain from this?" You asked wearily, making a small face and brows furrowing._

_"A life away from the asylum on Poveglia island. Is that not where you were going to stay for the rest of your life- because people could not understand that you were trying to help them?" The Pope inquired then, his frown pulling his lips down and brows furrowing once again. It must be a habit, you noted._

_You yourself frowned to stare down at the ground, soon turning back to look at the statute behind you that seemed to greet whoever would walk through the archways of the garden. If it meant being able to ask about that, and being able to avoid that island, then you were for it. Looking back at the Pope, you gave a small nod. "I'll be happy to help."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started this chapter 6 different times holy crap
> 
> LIKE I WANTED TO START IT WITH DIFFERENT BEGINNINGS AND ALL WERE GOOD BUT THEN I FINALLY STOPPED MYSELF AND SETTLED FOR ONE BECAUSE IM SUCH A STUPID DORK 
> 
> Also, idk if anyone else saw this when you went through the Spring Heeled Jack timeline, but he did the Leap of Faith at the end after you defeated him. I NEARLY SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THAT BECAUSE EVERYTHIGN STARTED TO CONNECT LATER ON AND YOU'LL FIND OUT 
> 
> I had to edit this; otherwise things wouldn't go so easily 
> 
> But I hoped you enjoyed this chapter~ I look forward to see you all again <3
> 
> With Love,  
> Fignewtons


	3. Old and new faces

_Forgive me Father for I have sinned..._

 

That phrase you've heard so many times from your mentor you swear that if anyone else said it, it would be unnatural. Your head raised, hair intricately done and the telltale signs of purposed beauty and self-image bedazzled upon your outfit. It was similar to that of your mentor's- as you know for we have discussed this before- however something new adorned it. A hood was sewn into place at the back of the coat's broad collar, and the hood was so large it practically drowned your head in its massive and soft fabric. Standing before you was a set of large steps, and several men and women stood cloaked in a set of high rising desks that came up and hid their bodies from their stomachs down. If you hadn't known any better- you would have believed you were standing in front of the Holy Order all over again. Around the dark colored room were high archways and a series of opened arches, with people cloaked and hidden in the shadows. Columns lined the main hallway and into the circular opening, with large red rose fabrics that hung down from hangars. Imprinted upon the fabric was the Creed's infamous symbol.

One you so easily recognized because of the statue in the Vatican.

Standing beside you was Jacob Frye, his head tilted upwards to his high council, and his hands perched upon his pimp cane with an air of hierarchy. His slicked back hair made him appear a bit younger, and he actually looked a bit refreshed now that he realized he wasn't fighting Jack all alone.

"Are you with us Miss ______?" An older male questioned bitterly, his eyes glimmering below his low sitting hood and his nose tip just visible past the beak of said fabric piece.

"Yes I am sir. I was just remembering what my mentor... Would be going through as of this moment if we were with the Holy Order," you explained, eyes drifting away and taking in the different clothing styles of the assassins that had all gathered to meet you and Jacob. It was important to meet anyone of the Holy Order.

"And what would that be- if it is more important to space off than to answer us?" an equally older female pressed with a tone of annoyance.

You let your brows furrow, lips purse and the flickering of the candle lights warmed the area. "Asking for forgiveness. Its not like you would understand, now would you?" You jabbed right back, earning a small and subtle side glare from Jacob. He was acting like your mentor. How brilliant.

"_____, we have gathered here to question as to why the Holy Order has shown up twice this year, and to figure out why you have bothered to help fix Jacob's obvious mistakes, not cause a war," Another older man piped up, his scolding directed more so at his fellow councilmembers than you.

Giving a sigh through your nose, your eyes closed to collect your thoughts before looking at the council once again. "The first time was because my mentor was sent here to take care of Dr. Jekyll. If I do recall, he was also killing the whores from Jacob's brothel of interest, was he not?" you sent your companion a side glance and saw him tense up. Looking back up at the council you added, "He was also targeting the queen. We understand that you deal with Templars and saving the order. While you do that, we take care of the monsters and demons in the dark. As for me, I was sent here to get a head start on the Jabberwocky. My mentor is taking care of a problem in Transylvania," you informed, head tilting and blinking your eyes up at the group.

"And what about Jacob- why did you get into his business?" a different woman inquired.

"I had simply gotten involved because Jack was going to hurt him. Despite Jacob offering himself to deter Jack from the innocents, he still managed to hurt a few innocents," you began, but was quickly interrupted.

"And a few men and women killed by Jack is something that we can stand with. If we lose another assassin-" an angered male voice.

Your voice instantly rose above his and you stepped forward to the council. "You would have lost a master assassin to Jack had I not been that!" You shouted, voice bouncing off the stone and causing several to flinch back. Though, they were the youngest assassins, and they curiously got close to the entrances of the archways to look at you. "A few men and women that had nothing to do with Jacob were killed, and could be killed now. You're letting Jacob try to handle Jack without sending in help and yet you whine and complain that you're losing assassins. He needs another Master Assassin, some people with skills that could track down Jack and destroy his legendary status."

"Yet you're the one to talk. Have you done anything with the Jabberwocky? Have you tried to stop his killing of the children and the innocent?" The first elderly female sneered down at you.

Your body went taut, glaring at her as your hand reached behind you. Everyone in the room tensed up tenfold, ready to spring on you should you produce a weapon. Hand raising, you set down a canteen with a crucifix upon the metal side upon the floor. "This is my work. To find demons, to find angels, to purge the evil of the darkest creatures that lurk in men's hearts, minds, and souls," you announced, hands raised and sending a look around the room. "I have just begun in London to find the Jabberwocky. Upon my discovery of Jack the Ripper and Jacob Frye, I have found that the Jabberwocky may be more than just one man- or he is truly something evil. I know that he resides in the wealthiest boroughs of London, and from eye witness reports that I've seen, untouchable." Coming to a stop, you picked up your canteen, and set it on the table in front of Jacob Frye. "He could use magic, or could be a former assassin- or quite possibly, one of the monsters I've mentioned just a moment or so before." Your eyes rolled over to the female that spoke, a snarl twitching your lip. "I've only been here for a good week or two, and I've just brushed my nose into your sights. What right do you have by ragging on what my job is when you cant even help one of your own?"

Their eyes were wide, staring at you with held breaths and no one dare to stir. The fading sunlight that poured in from the rooftop glinted to a warm orange glow, and bathed everything in its path that color.

A low and soft chuckle escaped into the air, from a man that could be easily identified as being in his eighties. "My darling, from what I have heard the stories of the famous Auditore- you are much like him. Spit-fire and witty," the older man hummed out. He stood up, hood hanging between his shoulder blades and a white beard adorning his cheeks and face. His eyes were alit in their youthful light, and he looked as though he were the head of the council. "Please, do not grow offensive. I understand that _some_ do not care to fathom that Jacob Frye is doing all that he can."

Your ears pricked, body turning as the older man came walking down and became more clear to you and your companion.

"George Westhouse," Jacob breathed out in awe, his body suddenly beside you and eyes twinkling with hope.

"My child, you have done what you can. I will accept this help from the Holy Order, despite the tasks she has been entrusted with," George hummed out, setting an aged hand on the younger man's shoulder. "What you have brought here today is a gift, and one that you must come to appreciate. The Holy Order has helped us with fighting the Templars for generations."

You and Jacob exchanged looks, the man gently drawing you to a side hug with his arm curled rather gently around your shoulder. You smiled, head on his shoulder as he rumbled out, "She'll be treated like she's an angel George."

George looked to you, a knowing look in his eyes as his hands gently rested upon your cheeks. "You have no idea Jacob," he murmured, placing a warm and chaste kiss to your forehead. Turning, the man nimbly walked his way back up to the council steps, his hands clasping. "Assassins- wherever you may be going to in this land of England, you must hear me now: You are to remember this day in the mark of Assassin History. Once again, the Holy Order has come out from hiding from the purges of the Templar order, and has joined the fight to protect the world. Whether it may be just this instance, or for the rest of time to come, we must hold our guest with respect, and treat her as one of our many brothers and sisters," he took in a soft inhale, looking out at the many hidden faces before down at you and Jacob. "May peace and goodwill be brought to you both on your journey- and as for the others," his voice rose out in a boom as he shouted out, "May Jack's rooks be removed from the face of the earth and be brought to justice for their sins!"

A chorus of cheers erupted- which was quickly followed by the phrase, " _Nothing is true, everything is permitted. We are assassins_."

Your eyes traveled around the whole building, mouth agape in small awe and gently gripping Jacob's riding jacket tighter as you watched them all recite the phrase perfectly. This, was what a brotherhood was like- and for one moment you swore you breathed out in a hushed voice, "Non è vero niente, Tutto è consentito; Siamo assassini*."

 

 

" _I have dreams of Venice... They're not of this time mentor, but rather... From before. Its so beautiful, so innocent and... stunning._ "

 

Gabriel stood at Munich Central Station. The brick was laid out, heavy metallic railroad tracks lining out and towards the northeast. Here, it would take him and Carl to Amsterdam, and from there, they would ride a boat to England. It would certainly take several hours to arrive at places, and he was sure that it would be maybe a day or two. He wasn't quite sure. So here he was, lightly writing down on a piece of paper explaining to his apprentice, _____ on where he was. However, he had paused in his writing to send a small glance to the right. His eyes drifted up, and his lips pursed below his dark mask that covered the lower half of his face. The female appeared to be forty, and her brown hair was intricately braided in a bun. Her skin was warm and sun kissed, though it appeared she had been in a warmer climate for a long time. Her outfit was something he hadn't seen before, and it was more of a grey-blue.

When he realized he had been staring too long, he blinked and quickly looked away. His hand raised gently tipping his wide brimmed hat downwards and making sure to keep Carl shut up. The train rolled into the station, the night twinkling and the moon shining brightly upon Europe. The newly formed country seemed to be thriving under its ruler, and people bustled this way and that. A conductor guided Gabriel and Carl onto one of the carts, helping them with their minimal luggage and sending them to a seat after checking their tickets. Both men sat down quietly, the mentor seeming to turn his attention out of the cart. There was a seat that was open beside Carl- and it looked as if it were the last one available, and the female they had seen earlier carefully perched.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked carefully, her eyes searching them. It was as if she were trying to read them.

"Go right ahead miss!" Carl bubbled up, smiling cheerfully at her and somewhat giddy.

Gabriel's brown orbs watched the female for one more moment before he returned his gaze back out the window. A whistle screeched from the front- in the distance- and the soft chugging of metal rotating upon metal grated his ears. Looking down at his gloved hand, he eyed the object within it. It was a deep brown necklace made of rope, with five metallic beads sitting perfectly entwined in the middle. It was designed with care and artistic skills- something that was put in with a lot of effort. On his way back from Translyvania, he had stopped by the Vatican to drop off any extra weapons that he might not need, and was handed this. The Pope hadn't said anything, except informed him that _____ would recognize it right away when handed to her. When asked why, the Pope simply hummed out that Gabriel should pay more attention to the statue out in the gardens.

"Gabriel?" Carl voiced a bit louder, the man's brown orbs flicking up and staring at his friend. "This is Evie Frye," Carl introduced, gesturing to the woman beside him.

Gabriel put the necklace back into his pocket, slowly looking to the woman. Something about her looked familiar- he wasn't sure where he could place it. "Gabriel Van Helsing," he grunted out gruffly, not wanting to spare her too much thought.

"So I've heard. My brother talks about how you're one of the most wanted men in Europe, though you're not at the top of the list with Jack the Ripper," Evie smiled to him then.

Gabriel let his senses expand outwards, looking back at her when she was speaking. "Ah, so he must live in London?"

"Twenty years," she hummed softly, though there was no turn of smiles then.

Gabriel watched her closely, taking in the note of sadness behind her features. He thought he could just place where he saw her face- but nothing rung a bell. He turned, letting Carl pick up the conversation and left him be. It was then the man pulled out his paper and jotted down what had recently happened...

 

 " _Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now... I love my work and want to start again._ "

 

Jack stood at the rooftop of a building in Westminster. His head tilted, looking towards the Jabberwocky as he was perched in a seat that was located on the upstairs porch. His eyes traveled about, sweeping over the area while the man he made a contract with. They were waiting for Jacob and ____ to show up, as a recent murder had happened. And by murder- Jabberwocky had done this one and let the poor child's body rot and decay. Jack had never seen anything like it, and for one moment he thought he caught a whiff of something else decaying- like physical rotting flesh... But he brushed it off and blinked at the little girl's frame before finding a less... smelly place to perch. His head tilted, watching the streets below before his lips curled below his mask.

"I found them," he mused, glancing towards the Jabberwocky.

His head lifted, eyes turning out over the balcony and stood up to join his companion. "Then lets greet them properly. They are our guests," the man rumbled out.

Slowly, Jack moved from his rooftop perch and swung down onto the porch before trailing into the home. The door on the ground floor squealed open, and two sets of boot-steps thumped very softly across the wooden floorboards.

It was time to give them a proper greeting indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This is finally updating once again and I'm glad to continue! I'm really excited to get this going and to see where this journey will take us!
> 
> I had fun writing Jack and Gabriel haha
> 
> I hope this is a good chapter for everyone~
> 
> __
> 
> Non è vero niente, Tutto è consentito; Siamo assassini: Nothing is true, everything is permitted; We are Assassins
> 
> With Love,  
> Fignewtons


	4. Fear

The house was torn apart on the inside; furniture was knocked over, lamps scattered on the dirtied rugs and there were several holes in the wall. The back door fluttered in the wind, and bodies scuffled across the ground and there were broken windows. Blood was even in small puddles and drops on the floor boards. Tools- boot scufflings, and indents marked the recent skirmish. However, it was clearly shown that the four people were more than willing to let the others go with small wounds. The scent of iron- and sickening perfume filled the area, outscenting the iron staunch. The moonlight shone down, the grassy lawn a small spot for fighting, as there was another house just beside it. 

Your head was hurting, your body in pain as you weakly stood in the spot in front of your companion. Jacob was just utterly destroyed- wounded in a sense- and knocked out on the ground behind you. The fight had taken the both of you nearly all night, and it had scared the local neighbors off in an attempt to escape the infamous Jack the Ripper and Jabberwocky in fear that they would become the next victims. You didn't blame them- and in fact the desire to join them had risen to the point that you had been ready to flee until you saw your friend. Despite having known him for a solid week or so, you... You still had to stay and help. It was in the job description, and if you let a man die- especially after he took you in- then let your soul be damned and sent to hell.

Your jaw went taut, eyelids squeezing shut when you felt the onslaught of pain flood your mind. Using your power for so long brought dangerous levels out, and you were beginning to climb the scale with each second now that you kept using it. Wet drops of... Bloody tears rolled out and flooded your vision, your gloved hands raising and using your palms to smear away the blood as you finally collapsed to your knees before giving a small sob. When you used your powers to see what Jabberwocky was, all you got was a black mass and it scared you. You hadn't encountered anything like that before, and it was ultimately your downfall. Bringing your attention back to the present instead of what could have been, you scooted back with the heels of your boots and pulled Jacob into your arms.

Jack stood triumphantly, approaching you and your friend with Jabberwocky and coming to a stop to stare down at the two of you in the cold morning air. Everyone's breaths misted, a frost settling on the grass and over your blood streaked cheeks while you sat there.

"Where was your mentor child?" Jabberwocky mockingly cooed, crouching down and lifting your chin up to stare at his unusually colored hues.

Your lips pursed, frowning heavily and not daring to speak at the man who practically beat you up. As Jack approached, you curled up further around Jacob, hiding him from his enemy and staring at the ground.

Looking unamused, Jabberwocky immediately dug his fingers into your jawline and squeezed, causing you to wince. His free hand outstretched, palm up and Jack handing a two pronged weapon. "I was just trying to be nice darling," the unusual man murmured to you. His hand gently shoved your head the other way, the motion causing you to nearly fall over.

You managed to remain upright, your eyes searching the ground for one long moment before gripping Jacob tighter. The Jabberwocky was attempting to pull your friend away, your hands clutching onto the older man and whimpering. "Leave Jacob be!" You cried out.

"And why should I? You made him a part of your mess when you involved him into your nasty little situation," he sneered at you.

You remained hard pressed, your lips narrowing to a thin line as your hand shot out. Within its grasp was a notched cinquedea  and it sliced the Jabberwocky's own hand. It knocked his borrowed weapon out of his palm, causing a distorted hiss to barely reach your ears. You didn't care though, sneering at Jack when he tried to get close to you. The man approached, his hands outstretched and you swiped in his direction. Jack growled, immediately lunging forward and tackling you away from Jacob. Your body writhed and thrashed, the sky beginning to lighten up from the slowly rising sun of the morning, and this allowed you to see a bit clearer. Your eyes searched the mask above you, Jack struggling to keep your arms pinned down. Your knee jerked upwards, causing Jack to give a low growl of pain and loosen his grip upon your arms. Finding the slack, your head reared up wards and caused a head butt, sending him off balanced upwards before your hand twirled the blade and shoved it into the man's gut. This caused you to immediately removed the weapon and jerk out the blade, shoving him away and off of you before standing to your feet and staring down Jabberwocky. His eyes glinted slightly, his grip on Jacob firm as he held the man up in a small cradle while his other hand wriggled freely.

"Would you like to see how I make my victims Miss _______?" Your enemy questioned, his lips curling upwards in a smirk as he stared you down.

Your eyes were wide, focused on the way Jacob's spine painfully held his backbend as he was somewhat hung over one arm of the person like he was a riding frock. Sweat prickled down your spine, feeling the cool morning air settle in your bones before you looked back at Jabberwocky. His hand was reaching for Jacob's face fingertips subtly turning a dark shade and just about to touch-

A sharp whiz of a metallic arrow flew past, striking Jabberwocky's hand and impaling the side while he screeched in horror. This caused him to drop Jacob, your body diving forward and catching the man before he could hit his head upon the ground. It was about this moment he groggily awoke, hand gripping your forearm as you brought him up to his wobbly feet and pretty much hauled him towards the safety of the streets. You didn't have time to stay behind and find out who helped you- you had to move out. A small limp in your step, you hobbled with Jacob down the grassy way and onto cobblestone. Hearing the soft clicking of your boots, you let out a small sigh of relief. It didn't last long, your ears pricking and listening to the extra boot steps.

"I didn't realize you didn't like me this much _____," a gravelly voice drawled out, your heart stuttering as the recognition of your mentor's voice finally hit. Slowly turning, your grip on Jacob faltered in the slightest before retightening on his jacket. Before you, was a man just over 6 foot, and his hat was tilted upwards. The very tip of his nose was a soft red hue from the sudden cold nips of morning, and his clothing looked recently cleaned and patched. The strong scent of Italian herbs brought tears to your eyes, but none more so when you ever more realized that your mentor was here, and he had saved your friend's life.

Reaching forward with your free hand, you gripped onto Gabriel's jacket as soon as he was close enough and brought him into a small hug, face hiding into the collar of his sweater before releasing a suppressed sob. Your body was exhausted, head throbbing and dried blood stained your skin as well as clothing. "I've missed you so much Mentor," your choked out, weakly lifting your head before his hand gently reached up and pushed your dirty locks out of your face, and cradled the side of your neck.

His brown orbs flickered over your face, a frown tugging his mouth downwards when he saw the state you were in, and then Jacob. "We can catch up later kid, lets get you and your friend back to wherever and patched up. As well as getting rest," he stated seriously. Gently guiding himself around, he put Jacob's other arm around his own shoulder and helped the two of you towards your room that were boarding in...

 

 

Gabriel was staring down at the pieces of paper you had tucked away in an orderly fashion, his eyes roaming over the print before his head lifted to watch your shifting. He was listening into the conversation that Carl was having with Jacob, and although curiosity was pricking at his brain, Gabriel refrained from the conversation. He was still trying to get over the side effects of being a werewolf, and losing Anna... A quiet sigh escaped his nose, watching your frame for one moment longer. If he hadn't arrived in time, he was sure he would've lost more than just a new companion. Within his free hand was the photo and the note so indirectly addressed to _____. His eyes would slowly drift, his lips pursing slightly before he shifted his body and rose up to stand. There was a sudden knock, causing your body to fully roll over in bed, and the men to suddenly hush.

Taking it upon himself, Gabriel's soft steps made careful tracks towards the entrance, coming to a pause at the entrance. It appeared that Jacob and Carl arose, their movements equally quiet as the silence drew on.

"_____? Jacob?? Someone is here to visit you," an unfamiliar voice hit the mentor's ears, Jacob seeming to perk up at the recognizable voice. The two men looked at each other, Jacob giving a confirmed nod.

The sound of unlatching locks was heard, and his glove clad hands twisted the knob before opening it fully. Revealed was Fredrick Abberline in a nice work suit. It was important that the man showed his higher position to that of the men who currently worked for him down at Scotland Yard. Standing next to Fredrick Abberline was the same brunette he met late last night on the train.

 

Evie Frye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this update hasn't been made- its been over a month and its long overdue. I hope this can suffice for a little while? 
> 
> Anyways, how do you like the things that are turning out? Please, I'd love to hear from you guys about this whole thing!
> 
>  
> 
> With love,  
> Fignewtons


	5. Old Friends

_The scent of death was prominent in the air. It stained your mouth, your nose, and your clothes. It was stained into your skin and seemed to absorb into your very being before it would dissipate a day or so later. However, what was different was that the scent was... Stale. You could tell that it was there, like rotting flesh and burning skin, but it was stale. You were alone on a black platform, twisting and turning and only armed with a white blade that glittered with purity of the soul. Your weak attempts to slash at the darkness brought about fresh cuts and marks along your skin. Everything around you was so dark; your eyes couldn't adjust to it and you certainly couldn't look through it. It was a permanent thick haze that parted to show you worst fears. It swirled and curled, enveloping around your legs and dragging you to your unwanted destination as you looked at the white blood that curled across the ground. It was glittered and tinting red, with once white feathers scattered across the ground. You looked at the face, giving a shriek when you saw your mentor's lifeless face and screamed ever louder at your blooded hands and forearms._

_"Gabriel!" You shouted aloud, bringing your mentor up into your arms and searching his face. He was so cold and lifeless- and the only thing to mock you was the distant laughter that was echoing about the room. Your body twisted in its seat, your lips curling into a faint scowl as you bitterly glared at the transforming shadows. It took shape, forming into an equally tall man and long ebony colored hair. His eyes glinted with interest, sharp teeth revealed to what you could only assume was a vampire. You had only seen drawings and heard depictions of what they were... But this was Dracula himself. His dark orbs flickered about, amusement present on his face._

_"What a shame, a lost child without her guardian... I wonder what Gabriel would think if I told him you had killed him?"_

_"I didn't kill him!" you objected with a rasping voice, pointing a bloodied finger at Dracula._

_"You didn't?" The vampire cackled, purring into your ear as he guided your vision to your own lap. "What's that then? Your own blood?"_

_"I didn't kill him!" you shrieked in defiance, cowering below in fear and-_

 

You were jolted awake. The scent of Italian herbs and seasoning flooding your nose and the scent of blood and death disappeared from your being. Your eyes fluttered open, feeling gloved hands on your shoulders and your own hands clenched into the dark knitted sweater of your mentor's. His brown eyes were searching your face with worry, your own brows seemingly furrowed for eternity as you searched his figure. Slowly, your mouth parted and you looked away, trying to make sense of where you were. You were in your rented hotel room, with curtains drawn and Carl and Jacob missing. The only person with you was Gabriel. Slowly, you rose, his grip on you removing and he then turned to rest his gaze on your figure. Three long, angry scratch marks came down the side of your throat and swelled the skin along the edges. Sweat was a thin layer overtop, and your shirt was sticking to your skin. 

"What was that about?" He questioned softly, his lips pursing. "You were saying you didn't hurt me."

You looked down at your hands, making sure that this wasn't an illusion before looking over to the curtains and then back at him. "I... I..." You closed your gaze, swallowing back a thick lump of bile before continuing, "I had a dream about Dracula."

Gabriel tensed.

"My hands were all bloody and you were lifeless on the floor with white feathers surrounding your body... Your blood, it-" your eyes flickered, your vision coming on involuntarily as you gasped softly. His hands reached forward, steadying your body. It was a side effect of yours; if you used up too much power in one sitting earlier, you would sometimes activate it after you awoke from passing out. You saw soft dawn feathers flutter down onto his long sleeves, his gloves seemingly undisturbed as you looked farther up. Rusted chain links criss-crossed over his chest and back. However, what really captured your attention was what was pinned upon his back. Your lips parted, finding grand white wings perched between his shoulder blades. They were twitching, causing a small ruffle of loose feathers to fall onto the bed. You wanted to touch them- but when you blinked you found them gone. 

"It what?" he questioned softly, brow arching curiously at you.

"It was white..." slowly, your hands shifted over his hands and felt for the feathers. If you were lucky, the lingering effects of your powers could extend to feeling. As you searched, you felt the soft tickling's of the feathers and you smiled to yourself. He watched you, not saying anything until his hands had halted your advancements at his shoulders. 

"What are you doing?" His voice was soft, hesitant ~~and almost wondering if you were mentally stable~~.

It was then you remembered your dream and quickly continued, "I saw wings- the blood was coming from the wings and the more you bled the more the white turned to..." you looked at your hands, as though it still felt like it was sticky and coated with that forbidden substance. "Red... Dracula stated... I had killed you." Your eyes searched where the chains would be and a soft frown curved your lips down before you got up. "I was so scared- I denied the fact even when I saw the proof." You stood on bare feet, hand covering an eye in the dim lighting as you searched the floorboards. "I usually can interpret my dreams but- this was personal. It was such a level where it felt so real."  You raised your hands up to the ceiling, looking over the shadows that were cast upon them and eyeing them suspiciously before looking at your mentor. He was rising to his feet, his boots lightly clicking across the ground as he approached you. Gabriel gently took your wrists, lowering your hands and placed them to his chest as he stood close. 

"Look at me _______," his deep voice rumbled out, finally capturing your eyes. His gloved fingers guided your hands up to his stubble cheeks and placed them there. His whole hands covered yours, searching your gaze. "I will never let anyone influence you to do evil, nor will I let evil get ahold of you." One of his gloved hands reached up your arm, tracing the three long markings and closing his eyes. A soft prayer was muttered below his breath, your skin that was once inflamed now cooling rapidly and the scratches disappearing from sight. Soon, his hand was placed at your hip, his eyes searching your whole figure then. _You're too much like Ana,_ he thought to himself as a wave of grief overtook his being. Gabriel removed himself from you, now sitting down on the bed and shifting through his satchel while the front door opened.

You blinked rapidly in your spot, confused for a long moment before you heard Carl's loud and boisterous voice.

"________!" he howled in delight, the friar launching himself into your arms and hugging you. "I'm glad you're okay! It looked like the Jabberwocky got a bad land on you," he whimpered out, pulling back. Your brows furrowed together, your head craning down and hands parting the torn fabric across your stomach. Angry black veins throbbed dully at the center of its once bad marking, and your head tilted to look at your now resting mentor as he laid back on the comfortable bed. 

You smiled in assurance to Carl then, murmuring, "I think its that guy you should be worried about. Any more holy water used on me, and we could run out of supplies!" A soft teasing lilt to your voice is what made Gabriel chuckle off to the side. Your eyes then lifted to your friend, a warmth gracing your features as his now younger appearance made itself known. The two of you immediately met halfway into the room, hugs from both of you. "Oh thank the heavens you're okay Jacob," you breathed in, the scent of leather and smoke filling your nose while your head nestled against the curve of his neck.

His head tilted, resting against your own as he smiled. "I was more worried about you," the older man admitted somberly. "I hadn't realized that you had been hit that bad... All because of my carelessness."

You shook your head, pulling away from him slightly. "It wasn't ever your fault Jacob. If anything, we were unprepared for the two of them to ambush us. I wouldn't be so harsh upon yourself," your voice was soft and milky, a gentle tone like a mother speaking to her child. You looked over his face, hands raising and gently setting on his cheeks for a moment before pulling away. 

Gaining your attention was Evie Frye, the elder twin now in your view. 

“You are who Jacob is talking about,” she mused with a smile.

You smiled back, looking at your friend wirh a curious look before your attention returned to her. “You... Are Evie Frye, right?” You asked curiously then, hand held out for her to shake.

Evie nodded. “And you are _____. From what I have heard from the high council, you are a descendant of Ezio Auditore.”

Your brows furrowed yet again that day, and you tilted your head. “I am unfamiliar with this... Ezio Auditore.”

Carl exchanged looks with Gabriel.

”Well...” Carl began in a drawn out tone before he took in a breath. You looked to the friar, finding yourself searching for a seat as he told the life of the great Italian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Im back, and this story has some new muse!! Wow! Im excited to advance this past five chapters lol
> 
> Happy readings,  
> Fignewtons


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